


What We Need

by dracoqueen22



Series: Mastermind [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, BDSM Scene, Dom/sub, Light BDSM, M/M, Tactile Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 18:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18266675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Soundwave’s submission is a gift, and Bluestreak’s domination is a privilege, something they both need to center themselves in this post-war Cybertron.





	What We Need

t didn't always start with Soundwave showing up to help Bluestreak close the bar, but it was a good indication of what he wanted when he did.  
  
Bluestreak didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't have to. Soundwave couldn't hide the turmoil in his field, not from a reader like Bluestreak. He only needed one guess as to what caused his sub's distress.  
  
Megatron was not a mech who surrendered to peace gracefully, no matter how much he'd stood behind the treaty. And Soundwave, as Megatron's most trusted lieutenant, often bore the brunt of his leader's frustrated tension. He never faltered around Megatron, never betrayed his inner turmoil. Instead, he swallowed it down, hid it deep inside, and brought it to Bluestreak.   
  
He took his exorcism responsibilities seriously.   
  
They worked in a comfortable silence, music playing softly in the background while they cleaned and straightened and swept and restocked. Soundwave had joined Bluestreak often enough he knew what to do without strict instructions, and Bluestreak trusted he would do it properly. Riptide certainly appreciated it, even if Soundwave did make him uneasy, because when Soundwave showed up, Riptide was allowed to skedaddle early.  
  
More time for snuggling Pipes, Bluestreak supposed.  
  
Bluestreak had learned, too, that Soundwave liked cleaning. He liked the lack of thinking that went into it, coupled with the sense of accomplishment afterward. Little effort, maximum reward. Bluestreak might have worked that into their sessions, tasking Soundwave with cleaning his quarters or polishing his armor, and the peace in Soundwave's field afterward had been very, very enlightening.  
  
There were a lot of things Soundwave had come to him thinking he wanted, and they'd learned together, they weren't the things Soundwave actually needed.  
  
It was a bit of a learning curve, but not a steep one. They'd hugged the corners together.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it tonight?" Bluestreak asked as he worked out the last of a session for tonight, and they hauled the day's trash out to the recycle bin. Cybertron right now was in a state of 'waste not, want not'. They recycled everything they possibly could.  
  
Soundwave held the chute open so Bluestreak could stuff the bags inside. "No."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
The chute thunked closed, and Soundwave waited while Bluestreak checked the locks and set the alarm. Petty thievery and burglary was not uncommon, here in a post-war world. Autobots, Decepticons, and Neutrals alike were all suffering from the same lack, no matter how hard their combined, pseudo-government worked to equally distribute supplies.  
  
They headed to Bluestreak's apartment side by side. Always Bluestreak's apartment because Soundwave was not allowed to bring his cassettes to their sessions, and it would have been unfair to chase them out of their home. Soundwave never seemed uncomfortable at Bluestreak's, and it never seemed to bother him.  
  
"I hesitate to ask how your day was considering the disquiet in your field," Bluestreak said as they stepped into the streets, less crowded than during daycycle, but not empty of mechs lumbering about their business.  
  
"It was nothing of note," Soundwave said, his tone grave and restrained. "Nothing to say that hasn't already been said."  
  
Bluestreak brushed his fingers over Soundwave's. "I'm sorry."  
  
"The fault is not Bluestreak's."  
  
"No, but I can still be sorry you had a slag day."  
  
Soundwave's visor turned toward him, the light softening with warmth. "It's better now."  
  
Ah.  
  
Bluestreak's doorwings fluttered, his lips curving into a smile before he could stop himself. How anyone could claim Soundwave was emotionless when he so casually said such things, was beyond Bluestreak's understanding.  
  
Better now, he'd said, and hopefully, even better still, if Bluestreak did his job right. But he also knew he had his work cut out for him, because while Soundwave's field simmered with disquiet, it morphed into a riot of emotion the moment they stepped beyond the threshold and into Bluestreak's apartment.  
  
Soundwave entered and immediately knelt, hands on his thighs, sat back on his heels, his mouthguard snicking aside as he looked up at Bluestreak with longing in his visor. Bluestreak's spark squeezed, and he cycled a ventilation to steady himself. The naked desperation in Soundwave's field was nearly suffocating.  
  
"It was that bad," Bluestreak murmured, not a question, but a statement.  
  
He made sure the door was locked before he turned back to Soundwave, who watched his every movement with a mixture of appreciation and need. His armor fluttered, gaps and seams widening ever so slightly, his vents quickening.  
  
Bluestreak steadied himself and approached. Kneeling, Soundwave still came up his mid-chassis. It made him no smaller, no less imposing. The naked trust in his visor, the way he leaned into Bluestreak, subtly pleading, however, put the control firmly in Bluestreak’s hands.  
  
Primus, he was intoxicating.  
  
The scars around his mouth and cheeks stood out in stark relief to the pale cast of his face. Bluestreak traced them with the tip of his fingertip, before he stroked the back of his knuckles down the side of Soundwave's face, Soundwave leaning into the touch. An audible ex-vent whooshed through the air, followed by a rattling spin of Soundwave's fans.  
  
He was impeccably maintained. The rattle had nothing to do with ill maintenance.  
  
"Not yet, sweetspark," Bluestreak murmured. He leaned down, brushing his lips over Soundwave's forehead. "Up. Come. Energon first."  
  
Soundwave's field touched his, anxious but relenting. "Yes, sir." The honorific tumbled so easily from his lips.   
  
He stood, and Bluestreak pointed him to the couch, a new piece of furniture he'd acquired once he'd started seeing Soundwave more regularly. It was bigger than the futon he'd had before, and covered in comfy cushions.  
  
While Soundwave made himself comfortable, Bluestreak retrieved some midgrade from the storage room, and offered Soundwave the larger of the two cubes.  
  
"Here. Drink.” He pressed his field to Soundwave's, letting it flex and mingle, trying to draw away some of the exasperation and disappointment suffusing it.  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
Obedience came naturally to him. Bluestreak had to admit, that was definitely part of Soundwave's allure, and what had initially convinced Bluestreak to give their acquaintance a chance.  
  
Bluestreak slid into Soundwave's lap, soaking up the sensation of Soundwave's surprise, his knees bracketing Soundwave's hips and his aft resting squarely on Soundwave's thighs. He balanced his cube in one hand and slid his free palm over Soundwave's dock, the thrum of a strong spark teasing his dermal net.  
  
Soundwave's ventilations hitched. His glossa wet his lips. "Comfortable?"  
  
"Very." Bluestreak scooted a bit closer and traced nonsense symbols over the face of Soundwave's dock. "Thank you for your help tonight. I always appreciate it when you come by. Closing goes so much quicker, and then I get to come home a lot faster. Means more recharge on my end, which I think we could all use more of."  
  
Soundwave's free hand lifted, reaching for him only to hesitate. Bluestreak made an encouraging noise, and Soundwave’s hand found a home, landing on Bluestreak's hip with a careful touch.  
  
"Intentions not fully pure," he said.  
  
"There's not much pure about any of this," Bluestreak teased. He slid his fingers over Soundwave's intake, soaking in the small shiver of his armor. "Finish your drink, sweetspark."  
  
Soundwave immediately obeyed, tipping the cube back and emptying it in several long swallows, his intake bobbing beneath Bluestreak's fingers. His field surged against Bluestreak's, twining intently, like trying to burrow into him for comfort.  
  
Bluestreak tipped back his own cube quickly, setting it aside so he could free his other hand. He kept stroking Soundwave’s with gentle, almost tickling sweeps of his fingers. Now free, his other hand rested on Soundwave's shoulder before he dipped a finger into Soundwave's seam, caressing the cables beneath.  
  
By a small degree, Soundwave relaxed beneath him, armor extending the gaps enough to allow Bluestreak to touch, and his frame softening, accepting the weight of Bluestreak's. Tension still hovered at the edge of his energy field, but he seemed to be soaking up the calm Bluestreak offered nonetheless. His hand rested on Bluestreak's hip, a light touch, as though he was unsure whether it was allowed or not.  
  
So well-behaved.  
  
He emptied the cube, and Bluestreak took it from him, setting it aside. He gently cupped Soundwave's face.   
  
"Do you want to tell me what you need tonight?" Bluestreak asked as he rolled his hips and scooted a little closer, until there was only a scant few inches between their chassis. "Or is it nothing specific?"  
  
"You," Soundwave said as his visor dimmed, his head tilting into Bluestreak's touch.  
  
"Fair enough." Bluestreak closed the distance, brushing their lips together in a bare kiss.  
  
A tremble ran through Soundwave beneath him, his other hand grasping Bluestreak's hip and both tightening in their grip. He didn't push, but his ex-vents shivered over Bluestreak's lips as he waited for Bluestreak to deepen the kiss or take it away.  
  
"Don't move," Bluestreak murmured as he tasted Soundwave's lips before moving on, skimming over the raised ridges of scar around Soundwave's mouth. "I'm going to take care of everything, and you're going to sit there and let me."  
  
A rattling ex-vent whooshed warm air against Bluestreak's chassis. Hands flexed on his hips, but didn't let go. "Yes, sir," Soundwave said.  
  
"Good boy." Bluestreak kissed him again, just enough to get a taste of the energon on Soundwave's glossa. He stroked his field along Soundwave's, giving it a warm, fuzzy rhythm that had Soundwave shifting beneath him to match the beat.  
  
Soundwave’s engine purred, his mouth opening to Bluestreak, letting him do as he wished. His field relented, allowing Bluestreak inside, until he surrounded and embraced Soundwave with it.   
  
Bluestreak shivered. The amount of trust in that simple yielding was an intoxicating weight, and he relished it. He swept it up, treated it gently, as the precious gift it was.   
  
"You are... so good," Bluestreak continued to murmur, keeping his vocals to a rhythmic, almost musical beat. "You work so hard. You are so loyal. You watch over everyone. You obey so beautifully. I am so very proud of you, pet."  
  
A tangible shiver rattled over Soundwave's armor, the gaps in the seams lengthening by degrees, his field pressing flush and needy to Bluestreak's. He blossomed so sweetly under praise.  
  
"I envy Megatron," Bluestreak admitted, because it was the truth, and he'd learned he couldn't lie to Soundwave. Unconsciously or not, when their fields touched, Soundwave could read falsehoods. "He has your loyalty and your devotion, and the Decepticons would fall apart without you."  
  
"Negative," Soundwave murmured.  
  
Bluestreak brushed a kiss over his lips. "Do I lie?"  
  
A shuddering ventilation escaped from Soundwave's mouth, the whuff of it teasing Bluestreak's lips. "Negative," he whispered.  
  
"That's because I'm always right." Bluestreak chuckled lightly and stroked Soundwave's intake. "Come on, pet. Take me to a berth. We should get more comfortable." He pressed his knees in on Soundwave's hips pointedly.  
  
Soundwave's armor fluttered. "Yes, sir."  
  
He planted his feet on the ground, tightened his grip on Bluestreak's hips, and stood, powerful hydraulics lifting him from the couch with ease. And lifting Bluestreak as well, who inwardly marveled at Soundwave's strength. There was a lot of restrained power coiled within Soundwave, and yet, he bent a knee to Bluestreak without hesitation.  
  
Intoxicating.  
  
"Put me on the berth, then go dim the lights and lock down the apartment," Bluestreak instructed as he traced nonsense symbols on Soundave's intake, his fingers feather-light, probably ticklish to anyone else. "Come back to me after."  
  
Soundwave's visor brightened with warmth. "Yes, sir." His field twined thickly with Bluestreak's, approval and peace pulsing through it in thick, heavy waves.  
  
Each command made the tiniest layer of disquiet peel away from Soundwave. Bluestreak counted every dropped agitation, eagerly anticipating the moment Soundwave melted into him. That was always a victory in itself.  
  
He set Bluestreak down with the gentlest care, and before he could pull back, Bluestreak hooked a hand around the back of his neck and tugged him into a kiss. A longer, more savoring one, where he could taste the energon on Soundwave's glossa.  
  
Soundwave rumbled against him, his engine purring, hydraulics creaking. Bluestreak pulled their foreheads together, stroking his fingers around Soundwave's audials.  
  
"Hurry back," he murmured before he released Soundwave, letting him slide back off the berth.  
  
Their fields separated slowly, disentangling tendrils like one might unfurl a knot. Bluestreak watched him go with a bit of haste, his field swirling around him.  
  
Bluestreak grinned and shuffled around on the berth, rearranging pillows and cushions to his liking. There were few comforts he was insist upon, but a comfortable place to recharge was one of them. Cradling his sensory panels was a priority.  
  
Soundwave returned, and Bluestreak crooked a finger at him. "Good job," Bluestreak said. "Join me." He patted his chassis. "Right here."  
  
Soundwave's field rolled over his, warm and appreciative. "Tired?"  
  
"No. But I think you are." Bluestreak curved his lips into a soft smile and patted his chassis again. "I mean, I am tired. It's kind of a state of being. But I'm not too tired for this. I would've told you if I were."  
  
There's a moment where Soundwave looked at him, before a quiet rumble of laughter rattled in his chest. "Good to know." He climbed onto the berth, notching himself on top of Bluestreak, into the cradle of his arms and legs, his head pillowing on Bluestreak's bumper.  
  
Precisely where Bluestreak wanted him.  
  
Soundwave was heavy and warm, the rumble of his engine vibrating against Bluestreak's frame. With the cradle of pillows, Bluestreak was perfectly positioned to hold Soundwave, his hands able to stroke Soundwave's back and seams in soothing patterns. He twined their fields together once more, timing the pulses of his own field to match the tangible oscillation of Soundwave's spark.  
  
"This all right?" Bluestreak asked.  
  
"Yes. But--"  
  
"Hush. My choice." Bluestreak petted Soundwave's back, tracing his seams, teasing the coiled and charged cables beneath. Not to arouse, that wasn't his intention at the moment, but to soothe.  
  
There would be time for arousal later. Right now, he preferred a calmer, less agitated Soundwave. They could get to the saucy bits when Soundwave was in a better mood to play.  
  
Not all submission was about the finale.  
  
"This is what I want to do. And this is what you want, too," Bluestreak said as he modulated his field to match Soundwave's, pulsing comfort into their tangled energies. "Or should I say, this is what you need, and I'm happy to give it to you."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
There was a moment of waiting, where Soundwave almost seemed to tense in his arms, field going firm and armor rigid. Then he vented, slow and careful, and as he did, the tension seeped out of him. He melted into Bluestreak's embrace, fully molding over his frame.  
  
"Good pet," Bluestreak murmured, petting him in long, slow strokes, matching the motions of his hand with the undulating sweep of his field, though now the tendrils of Soundwave's own entangled deeply with his.  
  
Bluestreak grinned and leaned back into the cradle of pillows, matching his ventilations to Soundwave's slow and steady ones. He never underestimated the value of a good cuddle, and Soundwave definitely struck him as a mech who could use a lot more of them.  
  
"Lights to dim," Bluestreak announced, just loud enough for the automated system to hear, but hopefully not disturb Soundwave's meditative state.  
  
It didn't.  
  
Soundwave remained calm and quiescent, his systems humming, his field matching Bluestreak's pulse for pulse, and the oscillations of his spark a quiet thrum against Bluestreak's abdominal plating. Sometimes, it was hard to reconcile sweet moments like this – and Soundwave's fully committed submission – with Soundwave's reputation as the silent, frightening mech who stood at Megatron's left hand and haunted the nightmares of many an Autobot.  
  
Then again. Bluestreak knew a little something about hidden parts of oneself. People couldn't reconcile the dominant, controlling part of him either. They only wanted to see the sweet, chattering sharpshooter who had been rescued from the ruins of his colony. They wanted to coddle him and protect him, as if there was any rescuing his innocence after he'd spent so long barely functional, in the ruins of his home, while laying next to the corpses of his two closest friends.  
  
Perhaps that was why he and Soundwave suited each other. They were too accustomed to concealing parts of themselves. And they could, in turn, understand the need for privacy.   
  
Soundwave slipped into recharge like that, his guard lowered for Bluestreak in such a way that Bluestreak's spark fluttered with pride.  
  
Bluestreak, however, found recharge elusive. He couldn't place a finger on why, but something struck him as... off. Off enough he couldn't rest without investigating.  
  
It took some doing, careful and gentle, to ease out from beneath Soundwave, tucking a few of the firmer cushions in the empty space he left behind.  
  
Bluestreak crept out of the berthroom, his sensory panels twitching as he stepped into the main room. Something pinged on the motion register.   
  
Ah. So that was the reason. Well, this wasn't unexpected.  
  
He hummed to himself as he made a show of circling the windows and door. He checked the balcony last, and peered through the translucent transteel at the glittering lights of the city below.  
  
Cybertron was not beautiful. It was a ruin. A collapsed mess of buildings and armament and corpses no one ever had time to claim and bury. Clean up would take decades, centuries even, and rebuilding millenia still. They were too few in number, too few in cooperation, too caught up in pointing fingers and shifting blame to make real progress.  
  
Bluestreak had yet to decide if he was glad to be home. He didn't miss the war, but a part of him missed how much simpler it could be. Living was easier if all you wanted was to survive. Living was much harder when you tried to, well, live.  
  
He was several levels up, but there were plenty of flyers around. He stared out the window for a moment, ruminating on what the city used to be. His sensory panels gave another twitch.   
  
"Soundwave knows better than to break one of our main rules, so I can assume he didn't bring you here."  
  
Bluestreak didn't look, but his sensor net tingled with awareness as a dark shape slithered out of the shadows.  
  
"How'd you know?"  
  
"That's my secret to keep." Bluestreak half-turned to acknowledge Ravage. "Is this where you threaten me?" It was only fair, since he was reasonably sure Jazz had already bared his denta at Soundwave some time back.  
  
Ravage padded up beside him on silent paws. He wondered if the other cassettes were lurking around, or if they deemed only Ravage important enough to make the threat.  
  
"You're taking care of him. A threat is pointless," Ravage said. Interestingly, Bluestreak could not read his field. It was too well contained. "He trusts you, which means he's already read you, so your motivations are innocent enough."  
  
Bluestreak folded his arms under his bumper and looked out on the city again. "Then why are you here?"  
  
Ravage sat back on his haunches, visible in the window’s reflection. He still hadn't looked up at Bluestreak. He seemed to be enjoying the same view.  
  
"I wanted to thank you. He needs this, needs what you're offering him. He's never had someone to support him other than us, and there are needs we can't fill. So thank you."  
  
Bluestreak cycled his optics. "Oh."  
  
Ravage chuckled, a bit of an unsettling sound as it edged with a growl. He tilted his head to look up at Bluestreak. "And also, if you intentionally hurt him, we will kill you, truce or no truce."  
  
Despite himself, Bluestreak's lips curved into a smile. "Understood and noted."  
  
"Good."  
  
Amusement trickled in his spark. Bluestreak gave one last glance to the window before he turned away from it. "Well, you're welcome to make yourself comfortable. But you might not want to listen too closely to the berthroom here in a bit."  
  
"Spare me the details."  
  
Bluestreak laughed.  
  
He left Ravage in front of the window, though when he looked back, the cassette had melted back into the shadows from whence he came. Bluestreak paused before re-entering the berthroom, his sensory panels giving a sharp flick.  
  
Stillness and silence. As far as he could tell, the apartment was once more empty, excluding the napping Decepticon in his berth at any rate. He could relax now.  
  
Bluestreak slipped into the berthroom. Soundwave had shifted in his absence, and Bluestreak would have thought him still in recharge, save for the slit of crimson narrowed his direction.  
  
"You should still be napping," Bluestreak chastised as he climbed onto the berth, nudging his way between Soundwave's thighs as he did so. If his Decepticon was going to be online, then Bluestreak intended to play.  
  
"You left," Soundwave replied as he shifted onto his back and parted his legs to fit Bluestreak between them, his hands sliding to Bluestreak's waist. "Why?"  
  
"Habit of paranoia." Bluestreak nosed into Soundwave's intake, and the other mech obediently tipped his head back to bare it. He nibbled on the cables, Soundwave shivering beneath him, and tasted cleanser and fresh wax. "Mmm. You visited the washracks before you came to me, didn't you?"  
  
He hadn't paid it much attention earlier, more concerned with Soundwave's mental state rather than his physical one. But he noticed now. Soundwave was not unattractive, and with gleaming armor and waxed paint, he was quite appealing.  
  
"Yes, sir." Soundwave's ventilations hitched, and his armor fluttered, giving Bluestreak peeks at the cables beneath.  
  
“Because you know I can’t resist when you’re clean and shining?” Bluestreak nipped Soundwave’s cables and nudged a knee against the apex of Soundwave’s thigh, grinding plating against plating, stirring zips of charge between them.   
  
Soundwave shivered and arched up against him, fingers twitching in their grip, but not tightening or loosening. He knew better than to dent or scratch, and that forced self-control was part of the high.   
  
“Tactical expert,” Soundwave gasped out, charge dancing out from under his armor.   
  
Bluestreak grinned against Soundwave’s intake and bit down, hard enough to make Soundwave jerk, to feel the pulse of his spark over his lips. “Yes, you are, pet.” He twisted his field around Soundwave’s and pulsed heat and pleasure into it, winding Soundwave’s charge higher. “But so am I.”   
  
Soundwave groaned, rocking up against him, their armor sliding together and creating bursts of static charge. It filled the space between them in bright arcs of blue.   
  
“Sir,” he moaned, and there was no sweeter sound.   
  
Bluestreak shifted his weight to one hand, so he could grip Soundwave’s chin in the other, directing him into a hot, sweet kiss. Soundwave opened to him willingly, submissive in the kiss, letting Bluestreak claim and taste.  
  
“Yes, I am,” Bluestreak murmured over Soundwave’s lips, tracing the scars surrounding his mouth with a lick. “And you’re going to give me what I want, because it’s what I asked for. Can you guess what I want, pet?”   
  
“Me.” Soundwave shook, from head to foot, his engine thrumming, more charge spilling out from under his armor. He tasted of inevitability, of hunger, and Bluestreak lapped it up.   
  
“That’s right.” He nosed back into Soundwave’s intake, grip tilting Soundwave’s head up to bare it, so he could nibble and suck on exposed cables. “You. My pet. My lovely. My pleasure. And yours. You’ll give it to me, won’t you?”  
  
Soundwave undulated beneath him, movements less restrained, more desperate now, his hands sweeping in the tiniest of motions up and down. Up and down. Caressing Bluestreak’s hips, begging without words. Asking, but not taking. He would wait, trembling on the precipice, until Bluestreak gave him permission.   
  
So he did.   
  
“Yes, you will,” Bluestreak purred against his intake. “I want it. And I’ll have it. Overload for me, Soundwave. Give it to me.”   
  
Electric fire erupted from beneath Soundwave’s armor. He bowed beneath Bluestreak, grip tightening into a tangible pressure, a long and low moan escaping from his intake. Pleasure licked through his field in lightning bursts that sang through Bluestreak’s as well.   
  
Primus, he was beautiful.   
  
Bluestreak kissed him, swallowing his cries of ecstasy as the charge surged out of Soundwave and leapt into Bluestreak’s own frame, burrowing through his seams to lick at his sensory net beneath. The feedback was intoxicating. Bluestreak shivered and panted into the kiss, pleasure zapping through his sensor net and fritzing his processor for one white-hot moment of peace.   
  
He dropped back into his frame moments later, fans whirring, vents puffing out bursts of heated air, limp and sated on top of Soundwave. The Decepticon’s field was tightly wound with his own, and it oscillated with satisfaction and relief.   
  
Content, Bluestreak thought, was a better word for it.   
  
Soundwave’s hands loosened on Bluestreak’s hips, less a grip to ground himself and more an embrace. His entire frame thrummed, and the pulsing of his spark was a sound and sensation that had become increasingly familiar.   
  
Bluestreak rested his head on Soundwave’s empty dock and tangled their frames together, legs and arms and feet, as awkward as it was. Post-overload, Soundwave’s need to cuddle was even stronger than when he came to Bluestreak agitated and in desperate need of a means to find his center once again.   
  
Fortunately, Bluestreak needed the intimacy just as much.   
  
“Much better,” Bluestreak murmured, half-statement, half-question.   
  
Soundwave hummed in agreement, non-verbal as was often the case post-scene. Though his field spoke more than enough for Bluestreak.   
  
"Will you be able to recharge now?" Bluestreak asked, half-serious, half-playful tease, knowing Soundwave could read both in his field. He'd opened himself on purpose.  
  
There were many ways to show trust.  
  
Soundwave's hands slid up, one resting at the top of Bluestreak's aft, the other curving gently around a sensory panel mount. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Good." Bluestreak cycled a long, slow vent, letting himself notch perfectly against Soundwave as he did so. Post-overload snuggling was the best for optimal recharge.  
  
He debated for half a moment informing Soundwave about Ravage's visit before he dismissed the thought. The warning had been for him, not for Soundwave to know. Soundwave was as loyal as they come, and if he thought for a moment Ravage and his cassettes did not approve of Bluestreak, he'd walk away. Even to his own detriment.  
  
Needed looking after, Soundwave did. Bluestreak didn't expect he'd be so happy to take that duty. It was nice to be the one doing the caretaking rather than the other way around.  
  
"Thinking," Soundwave grumbled, sounding only half-conscious, his vocals carrying an unfairly adorable sleepy slur.  
  
"Sorry," Bluestreak murmured and pressed an apologetic kiss to the curve of Soundwave's jaw. "I'll be quiet and recharge."  
  
Soundwave made a noise and his vents cycled down into a drifting state, toward recharge. Relaxed and open, content and safe.   
  
What an excellent idea.   
  
Bluestreak snuggled in and followed suit.   
  


***

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback, as always, is welcome, appreciated, and encouraged.


End file.
